This weekend has been a whirlwind. A completely crazy whirlwind of blogger ADD and moments of OMG both good and bad. Despite the fun, I’m ready to get home to my boys.
Helping me out today is someone I superpinkpuffyheart love.
Tiff is awesome. She’s funny, makes cute kids, and also has some serious talents.
After graduating with her MBA in December, Tiff found herself wondering what to do. So, she started blush restoration. (Check out the legs on “legs”!) If you’re in the area and you’re in need of a custom piece of furniture? Tiffany is your girl!
Tiff and I decided that, in the spirit of blush restoration and making new use of old things, we’d e-cycle. This has got to cut our carbon footprints in half or something.
Wanted: Couple Friends
The husband and I are pretty awesome.
I’m smart, often without pants, and occasionally clean a toilet. He’s big, indifferent, and can move furniture without my help. The relationship is win-win and, bonus!, we make cute babies.
We do have one area, however, in which we are a completely incompetent—we suck at making ‘couple friends.’
It’s painful, really. It’s like sitting at the pool with Suze Ormon and Jillian Michaels and you’re not allowed to spend money on bottled water because your home will go into foreclosure and Jillian didn’t say it was time to rehydrate yet. They’ll flog you with short-sale contracts and resistance bands and you’ll search for the nearest spoon and insert it directly in your eye.
Yelling lesbians aside, the whole idea of mating interests and weekends with other couples is exhausting. I can hardly make it through the foreplay of the initial meeting, feigning interest in traffic routes to work, triple coupon day, or the stool patterns of their toddler.
Potential Couple Friend (PCF) Wife: It’s so weird. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays little Tommy makes poopies first thing in the morning. Generally between the third episode of Dora the Explorer and the second episode of Wonder Pets but only if Ming Ming’s lisp is a little less ‘speech impediment’ and a little more ‘Key West’. Tommy has the cutest poopy face ever. Wait a sec…I think I have a picture of it in my phone…’
Me: I’m going to kill myself.
The main problem is that, even after 8 years of marriage, most people who know us are still wondering what the heck we’re doing together. The husband is up at 4am to workout every day. I am up until 1am watching Bravo or keeping up with some Kardashian every night. The husband hardly speaks and I often refer to him as deaf-mute. I’m pretty sure I never stop talking.
Opposites may attract but it’s hell on the PCF hunt.
The last time we got together with another couple was awful. We had dinner at their place and could not find a single thing we were all interested in to talk about. My friend’s fiancé was creative and artsy. My husband is a walking anthology for ESPN.
Major PCF fail.
But lately we’re feeling a little J.D. Salinger (the hermit part, not the dead part) and need to get out and actually be with people.
However, that probably means I have to put my pants back on and the husband might have to engage in conversation not including the words ‘third down,’ or ‘illegal formation.’
Unless, of course, we’re talking about Key West.